'Nuff Said.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Gym Memberships
Like any young professional I am struggling to learn how anybody balances their work schedule, commitments to family and friends, and health in a way that doesn't let any one of those three items fall to the way side. Unfortunately, if you're anything like me the first item to fall off my priority list is working out (see: health).
As the new year came and went I have made a new commitment to getting in shape and staying that way. I have become reinvigorated. To accomplish my goal I have made a few manageable lifestyle changes that I dedicate myself to: I set my alarm every single morning for 6 AM for an early morning work out, I get my gym clothes packed and ready to go at night so I can wake up and work out immediately, I have given up coffee, and I am cutting out alcohol.
Unfortunately, every single morning my alarm goes off I hit snooze for an hour and a half resulting in lack of sleep that serves no purpose. The lack of sleep leads to me guzzling down a half gallon of coffee, rich with whatever flavor creamer is most plentiful at my office. The lack of sleep coupled with my complete inability to hold myself to my new years resolution slips me into a mildly self loathing depression which, as you may have guessed by now, results in me at the bar drinking with friends to numb the pain.
But I digress. The point that I wanted to make before realizing what a failure I am at fulfilling promises I make to myself, is that going to a gym can be such an awkard endeavor. Generally I don't get uncomfortable during the workout- I'm all business then, but before and after the workout... completely different story. I'm not going to go into detail here, but here are a few habits people seem to have in the locker room that I have observed and genuinely disapprove of:
- The naked guy with a towel OVER HIS SHOULDER. Glad your shoulder is warm, but your junk just narrowly missed clubbing my head like a rubber chicken.
- Out of nowhere conversationalist. This is the guy that chooses to wait until your pants are at your ankles to discuss the healthcare overhall... with a complete stranger. 2 points here: A) politics should not be discussed in the nude. B.) eye contact please.
- Innapropriate use of the blow drier. The blow driers outside the shower are not mounted at waist level for a reason. I'm not going to be any more illustrative on this one.
So please, if you exhibit any of these behaviors please don't make it more difficult for people like myself and refrain from such awkward behavior. Thank you.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Selecting a Happy Hour Location: Steer Clear of Ed Hardy
A new hobby of mine is trying out new happy hour spots here in Seattle. There are some really great locations in Bellevue and Seattle, but I have to call out something I have observed. I call it the Ed Hardy Law and it is as follows:
The net weight of all hair product and Ed Hardy gear worn in a lounge, night club, or bar is directly proportional to the 'Douche-Baginess' present.
With this simple observation I strongly suggest selecting a sample of 5-10 individuals in a happy hour location. If more than 3-5 (depending on the sample size) of these people have a stitch of Ed Hardy on it is important you leave immediately. If you do not leave, you put yourself at high risk of assimilating after repeat exposures and you may begin feeling the urge to fake tan, take human growth hormones, and kick puppies. Once this begins, it is very difficult change course as your IQ will have dropped significantly, rendering you helpless as you spiral out of control into the land of Douchebaginess. Do no succumb or you could become this guy....
The net weight of all hair product and Ed Hardy gear worn in a lounge, night club, or bar is directly proportional to the 'Douche-Baginess' present.
With this simple observation I strongly suggest selecting a sample of 5-10 individuals in a happy hour location. If more than 3-5 (depending on the sample size) of these people have a stitch of Ed Hardy on it is important you leave immediately. If you do not leave, you put yourself at high risk of assimilating after repeat exposures and you may begin feeling the urge to fake tan, take human growth hormones, and kick puppies. Once this begins, it is very difficult change course as your IQ will have dropped significantly, rendering you helpless as you spiral out of control into the land of Douchebaginess. Do no succumb or you could become this guy....
Communication Disconnect
I would like to set the tone for my blog by calling out the fact that all this wonderful social media that everyone is so plugged into is chipping away at my generations ability to communicate verbally in a way that is even mildly coherent. I have become so accustomed to manipulating my normal thought process to fit into a text message, tweet, status update, or video review on YouTube that I panic if I need to verbally articulate an idea that can't be summarized in 140 characters.
This fact became painfully clear the other day as I attempted to explain to my boss what my thinking was behind a client deliverable I created.
Before I begin my short story, I must say my boss is a little intimidating so naturally I get a little nervous trying to make a case for my thought process when I feel like a big dumb ass talking to him. To give you an idea of the disparity in intellect that exists between myself and my boss I would compare us old school professional wrestlers. My boss would be Hulk Hogan - top of the game, a ton of respect, and the arena gets silent when he speaks. I on the other hand would be a drunk midget banging on the door outside of the arena in a hot pink leotard I purchased from value village, trying to convince the doorman to let me in so I could try out for a spot in the WWF. 'Nuf said.
So as I mentioned before my job for the morning is to explain to my boss how I created a business model we would be passing on to the client, why I made it the way I did, and what the take aways are from it. To tell you the truth, I was feeling pretty confident. I had worked for a solid day and a half on the model and felt like I had a pretty good grasp of what was expected. I went through my mental exercises I learned from an article about the '7 things to boost confidence' I read online. I have been reading 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and felt a little inspired. In short, I felt like the midget outside the arena banging on the door drank a red bull, kicked the door man in the nuts and was sprinting towards the arena in one glorious streak of hot pink ridiculousness where Hulk Hogan was waiting. Game on.
As I began telling my story I immediately began stammering, my face got hot, and I could sense his posture shift from one that conveyed interest to irritation. As I instinctively began to disassociate mentally to numb the humiliation it felt as if I was no longer speaking, but standing beside myself listening to a jumbled monologue that was my explaination of a day and a half of work come to fruition. Now that I had been focusing more on how crappy I was doing instead of what the point I was was trying to make, I thought it might help to touch his computer screen and show him what I was talking about. I began listlessly dragging my finger on his computer screen as I attempted to walk him through the excel model on his computer when I realized that grease from thecheeseburger I had for lunch was getting everywhere. He let it slide.
As the pressure began to mount and I had been rambling for a good 5 minutes confusing even myself, my boss looked me square in the eye, masterfully hiding the frustration that must have screaming inside him said, "I don't understand the words you are using"
He doesn't understand the words I'm using? I suddenly became very aware that the last five minutes I was some sort of trance and I couldn't even tell you what I said if I tried. It's as if I blacked out. It felt as if God attempted to execute Divine intervention and accidentally hit the button labeled 'Speak in tongues' instead of 'Clearly Articulate'.
Wonderful.
Essentially the Red Bull proved to be a little much for the inspired midget sprinting towards the ring and he crapped himself and fell into a garbage bin in a heap of shame.
While I guess I could blame my failure on my own lack of focus, inadequacy, or nerves I choose the the low road. The path MOST taken. I choose to blame an entity that cannot be held accountable and thus cannot fight back - social media. I like to think that if I was handwriting thoughtful letters to friends rather than forwarding the latest dirty joke on my blackberry I might have come out of that exchange with my boss victorious.
This fact became painfully clear the other day as I attempted to explain to my boss what my thinking was behind a client deliverable I created.
Before I begin my short story, I must say my boss is a little intimidating so naturally I get a little nervous trying to make a case for my thought process when I feel like a big dumb ass talking to him. To give you an idea of the disparity in intellect that exists between myself and my boss I would compare us old school professional wrestlers. My boss would be Hulk Hogan - top of the game, a ton of respect, and the arena gets silent when he speaks. I on the other hand would be a drunk midget banging on the door outside of the arena in a hot pink leotard I purchased from value village, trying to convince the doorman to let me in so I could try out for a spot in the WWF. 'Nuf said.
So as I mentioned before my job for the morning is to explain to my boss how I created a business model we would be passing on to the client, why I made it the way I did, and what the take aways are from it. To tell you the truth, I was feeling pretty confident. I had worked for a solid day and a half on the model and felt like I had a pretty good grasp of what was expected. I went through my mental exercises I learned from an article about the '7 things to boost confidence' I read online. I have been reading 7 Habits of Highly Effective People and felt a little inspired. In short, I felt like the midget outside the arena banging on the door drank a red bull, kicked the door man in the nuts and was sprinting towards the arena in one glorious streak of hot pink ridiculousness where Hulk Hogan was waiting. Game on.
As I began telling my story I immediately began stammering, my face got hot, and I could sense his posture shift from one that conveyed interest to irritation. As I instinctively began to disassociate mentally to numb the humiliation it felt as if I was no longer speaking, but standing beside myself listening to a jumbled monologue that was my explaination of a day and a half of work come to fruition. Now that I had been focusing more on how crappy I was doing instead of what the point I was was trying to make, I thought it might help to touch his computer screen and show him what I was talking about. I began listlessly dragging my finger on his computer screen as I attempted to walk him through the excel model on his computer when I realized that grease from thecheeseburger I had for lunch was getting everywhere. He let it slide.
As the pressure began to mount and I had been rambling for a good 5 minutes confusing even myself, my boss looked me square in the eye, masterfully hiding the frustration that must have screaming inside him said, "I don't understand the words you are using"
He doesn't understand the words I'm using? I suddenly became very aware that the last five minutes I was some sort of trance and I couldn't even tell you what I said if I tried. It's as if I blacked out. It felt as if God attempted to execute Divine intervention and accidentally hit the button labeled 'Speak in tongues' instead of 'Clearly Articulate'.
Wonderful.
Essentially the Red Bull proved to be a little much for the inspired midget sprinting towards the ring and he crapped himself and fell into a garbage bin in a heap of shame.
While I guess I could blame my failure on my own lack of focus, inadequacy, or nerves I choose the the low road. The path MOST taken. I choose to blame an entity that cannot be held accountable and thus cannot fight back - social media. I like to think that if I was handwriting thoughtful letters to friends rather than forwarding the latest dirty joke on my blackberry I might have come out of that exchange with my boss victorious.
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